


Hours In Love

by starwarned



Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [12]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: COC 2020, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2020, Carry On Countdown 2020 (Simon Snow), Carry on Countdown Day 12, CoC, DAY 12 - Wings, Fluff, M/M, Tattoos, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27707152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned
Summary: Carry On Countdown Day 12 - Wings“Our hours in love have wings; in absence, crutches.” - Miguel de CervantesSimon gets tatted.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026942
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	Hours In Love

**Author's Note:**

> this is inspired by [this](https://www.instagram.com/p/B9QPNRdgGxQ/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) artwork by @ sellieart on instagram! it is everything to me

I know Baz misses them more than I do. And that’s not to say I don’t miss them. I do. Truthfully, I didn’t think I would. 

But, I guess, when something has been a part of you so long (even if it was a huge burden), it’s hard to get used to life without it. 

I’ve been getting my magic back. Slowly, but surely. I almost hoped that it would happen all at once and I’d have even  _ half  _ the magic I had two years ago just like that, but it came back slowly. And I’m not even sure that I’m done getting it back. 

I can cast small spells now, and Baz has taken it upon himself to tutor me in everything I failed at in school - elocution, metaphors, etc. I don’t use my magic a lot because I’m afraid of somehow going off again (even if that’s unlikely with the low levels of magic that I’m producing), but when I do, something just fits into place. I missed magic. 

There was one morning, about a month ago, that I woke up and felt lighter. I discovered quickly, when I rolled onto my back with ease, that my wings were gone. At first I thought that Baz had spelled them away because I’d hit him with them in my sleep or something, but when I interrogated Baz about it and when the wings just never came back, I just accepted it. Even Penelope’s dad doesn’t particularly understand it - the connection between my magic and my wings was abundantly clear for a long time, but I didn’t think it would come to a head like this. There aren’t even scars. 

I miss having them there. Yes, it’s easier to get dressed now and walk about the flat without fear of knocking things over and I can nip down to the shop and get snacks without having someone spell them away for me, but I miss what they meant to Baz and I. My wings were the thing that made us match - at least, outwardly. Sure, I’m still a mess, and I’m the same with or without my wings, but I think Baz particularly misses them. 

I catch him starting to ask me if he wants him to spell away my wings sometimes when we’re about to go out. Or we’ll be snogging and he runs his hands over my shoulder blades almost wistfully. 

So that’s why I’m doing this. Getting dragon wings tattooed on my back. That’s why I’ve been anxiously standing outside this tattoo parlor for ten minutes, waiting for Penelope to arrive so I don’t have to go in by myself. So I don’t have to face this alone. She eventually shows up and talks me down from the ledge before we go inside.

The tattoos hurt like hell. I’ve been through a lot in my fucked up life, but that was torturous. We’re there for hours. Penelope takes a photo of them when they’re fresh and while I think they’re beautiful, there’s a lot of blood and I’m lightheaded when I stand up. 

Now to hide them from Baz for a few days. 

\-- 

It’s been five days since I got my tattoos and I can’t stand to be away from Baz any longer. I got him to stay away from my flat with the excuse that I’m sick and in hindsight, that was a terrible plan because Baz is a vampire and he can’t get sick. So, of course, he tried to get me to let up and let him come over. 

I am nothing if not stubborn, though, and I insisted that I was throwing up far too much to be an enjoyable partner. 

The tattoos are still sensitive, but now they’re mostly just itchy and flaky. It takes every last ounce of self control that I have not to scratch at them. 

I spend a while looking at them in the mirror. I have to crane my neck awkwardly to see the full set, but even just seeing one is enough. They’re still in the process of scabbing over, but I can’t help the jump of my heart when I think about what they mean. What they mean to me, what they mean to Baz. My wings were not something I was proud of when I had them - they were large, obnoxious, and a terrible reminder of everything I have lost. Now, thinking back on them, I miss how I felt when Baz looked at them and how it made Baz and I match.

I haven’t been wearing a shirt for the past few days because why bother when it will just irritate my skin and I’m not planning on going out anyway. Today, I slip on a thin t-shirt and immediately regret it as soon as the cotton fabric rubs against my shoulder blades. I grunt for a moment in pain before willing myself to push through it. Maybe Penny knows a painkiller spell.

Before I can consider it much longer, I can hear the front door open and I freeze, longing for Baz’s voice. 

“Snow?” 

I let my face split into a grin before bounding out of my bedroom and into the front entryway. 

“Baz!” I shout, not even bothering to hide my enthusiasm at seeing my lovely boyfriend, leaning against the frame of the open front door, his hair long and shiny, and his eyes glinting with (what I hope is) happiness to see me. 

Baz steps in and shuts the door behind him so that when I jog over to him, I can press him up against it with a hurried kiss. The kiss doesn’t last long because I’m smiling too much. Baz instinctively wraps his arms around my waist and I flinch immediately. 

He yanks his hands back. “Are you okay?” 

I bite my lip. I’m not sure why I even bothered to put on a shirt because I’m just going to show him my back anyway. “Fine,” I say. “Can I show you something?” 

Baz raises an eyebrow. I get up on my tiptoes so I can kiss it. 

When I take a step back and Baz has nodded his consent to _ being shown something _ , I start to tug my shirt over my head, my shoulders aching at the stretched movement. 

“Is Penelope not home?” Baz asks, his hands immediately flying up to start to unbutton his shirt. He looks so fucking sexy, I almost don’t want to stop him, but this isn’t where that’s going. I’m not sure that I could lie on my back right now - although, there are other positions to be in. I can’t think about that right now. 

“No,” I say, reaching forward to still Baz’s hands. “She’s not, but that’s not what this is.” 

He pouts, his lips falling into a lovely and familiar shape. 

“Hey,” I say. “I think this will make up for it.” 

I drop my shirt to the floor and take a deep breath before turning around. 

Baz’s silence is long, but I don’t dare turn back around. 

The tattoos aren’t completely healed - I know that. They don’t look as nice as they will in a few weeks, but I assume that Baz gets the gist. 

“Oh,” Baz finally says, his voice so quiet. “Simon.” 

I can feel it as he steps closer to me and gently touches the top of my shoulder blade - nowhere near the irritated skin of the tattoo. 

“They’re lovely,” he says. 

I smile and press into his touch. 

“Can I touch?” Baz asks. 

I nod, knowing it will hurt. I think I weirdly need this as much as Baz does. “Please,” I say. “Just be gentle.” 

Baz is gentle - I can barely feel his fingers brushing over my skin as he traces the lines in my tattoos. They aren’t particularly detailed. I mostly wanted the focus to be on the outline of the shapes and on the deep red color. It’s almost identical to that of my wings. 

“Why?” Baz asks softly, now tracing his fingers down the center of my back where the tattoos almost touch. 

I turn around at that. 

Baz has the softest look in his eye and I’m worried he might be about to cry. I kiss him gently. 

“I miss them,” I say quietly. I don’t add that I know he misses them, too. I think he’d like to retain his air of poetic mystery when it comes to his feelings about my wings. “And I wanted to seem more like a badass.” 

Baz laughs at that. “I like them,” he says. “I really do.” With the way he’s looking at me right now, I think he knows I got them for him - at least partly. And I know he wants to say more about them. But he doesn’t need to. 

I got them for both of us. 


End file.
